Rats and Clamped Ships
by Mardy Lass
Summary: Ten and Martha return a rat to its home, only to have the TARDIS 'wheel clamped'. Getting her released is more fun that they would have thought... My 2nd DW fic. Very much in the spirit of a TV episode. Just for fun!
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

"Grab it! Grab it!" the Doctor shouted. Martha lunged for the small round object desperately. "Come on, come on!" he shouted angrily. "If you miss this you destroy the planet!"

"I know!" she shouted, taking aim and throwing herself at the silver ball. She slid across the dusty floor, reaching, reaching –

"Just like that!" the Doctor cheered as Martha's hands closed round the steel ball. He shouted gleefully in triumph, throwing his hands in the air, jumping up and down in excitement.

Martha was not so happy. She simply tutted, getting to her knees and dusting off her top.

"Don't drop it!" the Doctor called quickly, then watched in horror as the shiny ball tumbled out of her grip and back onto the floor. "Oh for the love of hydro-spanner adjusting micro-binoculars!" he wailed, distressed. He shot toward her, diving for the ball.

She leapt back out of his way, falling on her elbows. She watched him slide across the floor on his stomach, snatching up the ball with both hands. He began to wheeze with appreciation of his apparent victory, then stopped abruptly as he collided broadside with the wall. His right arm, hip and his head smacked into the solidity of the TARDIS soundly. He opened his mouth to shout something, but thought better of it. Instead he hissed and wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

Martha couldn't help it; she laughed. He opened his eyes and looked at his right elbow that had slammed against the wall, desperate to rub it but loathe to take his hand from the ball. He realised she was laughing. He looked over at her slowly in curiosity. After a second he smiled slightly, intrigued, then started to laugh.

"Well?" he called loudly after he'd recovered some composure. "Did we win?"

Martha sighed happily, looking over at him. He looked back at her, eyes wide and mouth rammed upside-down in definite cluelessness.

"Team one wins," a voice said, and he grinned.

"Marvellous! Can I let go of this ball now?" he chuckled, getting to his knees slowly. Martha just lay back on the dusty floor, shaking her head slowly.

"Game is terminated," came the voice, and he dropped the ball, getting to his feet and walking over to her. He looked down at her and put his hands on his hips.

"Well? How does it feel to win your first game of Laramian Boules?" he asked, and she looked up at him.

"Great," she said sarcastically, then laughed. He bent over and put his hands out, and she sat up and took them, letting him pull her to her feet. She dusted herself off slowly. "Although it'd be easier if they didn't keep changing the rules at half-time," she said.

"But where's the fun if you know how to play?" he asked with a smile.

"Game is terminated," the voice repeated. He paused and looked around the large, white room, then over at the small box on the floor, the game controller.

"Yeah yeah, we know," he said brightly. He sniffed, looking back at her. "Well then. What now?" he asked cheerfully, letting his hands slide into the pockets of his brown trousers.

"What do you mean?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well that couldn't have taken more than… oooh, three hours?" he hazarded. "We're still a few hours from our next stop." He turned and walked over to the controller in the far corner, crouching down and pressing the buttons on the side, turning it off.

"Which is where?" she asked. "And _please_ don't tell me Earth!" she added quickly. He straightened and looked at her.

"Why not?" he asked, walking for the door. "I quite like it there. Sometimes," he added to himself as he walked past her again. She sighed slightly.

"But it's _familiar_," she pointed out. "You've got this great big amazing ship and all you do is hover round the same planet. If I were you, I'd be out going to far away places with strange-sounding names," she said, biting her lip and looking round the room slowly. "Like… Places they've never seen humans, or… places with no cars, or…" She paused, thinking.

He stopped, his hand on the door, looking back at her.

"How about a place with no humans and no rain?" he asked innocently.

"Perfect!" she smiled, walking over to the door with him, taking in his innocent, happy gaze. "Is that where we're going next?"

"Yes," he said confidently. "_Well_… yes," he added, not looking at her. "Well… er… yes…"

She just looked at him expectedly, waiting, and he looked back at her again.

"Yes! Well, after I've made a few changes to the-. Look, _I_ didn't know you didn't like Earth," he admitted, turning and walking out of the door.

"I _do_ like it!" she called after him, following him out the door.

"Game is terminated," the voice said again to the empty room.

She followed him to the hub of the TARDIS, watching him pull off his brown suit jacket and throw it at a support beam carelessly. He sniffed to himself and loosened his tie slightly, walking round the myriad of displays and controls, touching and moving things apparently at random. He leaned over a small screen, undoing his right shirt cuff and rolling it back slowly, pre-occupied. He muttered something as he reached out and moved a small lever backwards, then straightened and moved the shirt sleeve up past his elbow, peering at it curiously.

"You didn't have to dive for the ball like that," she said, putting her hands out to the high chair behind her and jumping on.

"What's the point in playing if you don't play to win?" he asked querulously, stretching his arm out and turning it. He hissed and she straightened on the chair.

"Is that really painful?" she asked out of habit.

"Kinda," he admitted, rubbing it. "Ow!"

She hopped off the chair and walked round to him, putting her hands on his arm and pulling it round where she could see.

"Ouch!" he protested, and she tutted at him.

"Don't be such a baby," she said dismissively, turning it round and pressing his elbow in both hands. He hissed. "It's not damaged, you'll be alright," she said tersely. "Honestly, you men."

"Time Lords are not known for physical endurance," he said primly, pulling his arm back and the shirt sleeve down slowly.

"I'll have to remember that," she said, a small smile on her face, but he just looked at her, oblivious. "And you're the last one, you'll have to be careful with yourself," she pointed out quietly.

"I'll try," he said to himself, then looked at her suddenly. "You've got a good point. Here, look at this," he said urgently, tugging his shirt out of his trousers and starting to lift it.

"Woah woah _woah_," she said quickly, raising her hands. "What?"

"I banged my hip and it's starting to hurt," he said innocently. "What if it's fractured?"

"Look mate," she said quickly, backing away one as she caught a glimpse of pale skin between his shirt and trousers, "if you walked all the way up here without it hurting, I'm quite sure it's not the least bit injured."

He paused, his shirt slightly lifted in his hands.

"You sure?" he asked darkly.

"Oh, very," she said with conviction. He pouted, watching her for a long moment.

"Ok," he said simply, pulling the shirt straight again and tucking it in. "Feels sore, though," he grumped as he pushed it back in neatly.

"Yeah well. You'll probably have a bruise there tomorrow. But nothing else," she said to herself, turning away quickly and going back to her chair. She hopped back on abruptly, swallowing and shaking her head.

"Game is terminated," said a voice, and he tutted.

"I know!" he said irritably, then paused. "Hold on… I thought I turned that off," he said to Martha. She looked at him, folding her arms.

"I _think_ you did. I mean, I saw you press buttons – I'm not sure if you pressed the _right_ ones," she pointed out clearly. He nodded.

"Good point." He put his hands in his pockets and walked off again, leaving her alone with the pulsing lights and steady hum of energy all around her.

She waited till she could no longer hear his feet on the grating or his muttering to himself.

Then she huffed out a long breath, waving air at her face.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

He walked up the ramp, looking at the small box in his hand.

"Well?" she asked, looking at him. "Did you turn it off?"

"Kinda," he mumbled, still looking at the box. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering, then looked up and walked over to where his jacket was hung over the beam, sliding his hand inside and rummaging round for his glasses. He pulled them out and flicked them open, sliding them on and sniffing, examining the box carefully.

"I don't think either of us landed on it, if that's any help," she said cheerfully.

"No… I think it's a software fault," he muttered, turning round to face her slowly.

"So what do we do, take it back to Sony and change it for a PlayStation 3?" she smiled.

He looked up. "A PlayStation 3?" he asked, indignant. "I'd want at least a 5 for this little _beauty_," he stressed, waggling the box at her. She grinned. "Although," he added seriously to himself, "the 4's were much more stable." He looked back down at the game box.

"Don't tell me you've got a PlayStation 4 somewhere round here?" she giggled. "I'd love to get Leo one of those. He'd die," she grinned.

"Game is terminated," a voice said. She tutted and he hissed suddenly, dropping the box.

"What?" she asked.

"It bit me!" he cried indignantly, shaking his hand and then looking at it. "The little blighter bit me!"

"Doctor, it doesn't have any teeth," she chuckled. She stopped short as the box shivered on the grating. "Does it?" she asked hastily.

They watched as six tiny legs sprang from the casing. The small object turned and hurled itself at his foot. He gasped but it was on his shoe before he could move.

"Ow! You little -!" He shouted suddenly in pain, lifting his foot and flicking the thing across the room smartly. It crashed into the corner and disappeared behind bulkheads and grating. He hissed and cursed, lifting his foot and grabbing it in pain, hopping slightly. "What is this, Batter-a-Time-Lord Day?" he demanded sulkily.

She got up and immediately ran over to where it appeared to have landed. She heard a scuttling sound and held still, listening. She heard something to her left and turned, following the sound, searching for any sign of a moving thing under the grating or around the floor.

"Careful! It'll have your leg off!" he called angrily, walking over. She put her hand out quickly.

"Ssh!" she hissed. He halted, one foot in the air, his eyes wide as he waited. She moved forward slightly, crouching down. "There," she whispered. She got to her knees, bending down to the grate and looking under a long, black cable that was lying against the wall. She found herself eye-to-metal with the small thing.

It was vibrating very, very slightly. She stared at it, counting six hairy legs and two bright green, shimmering lights shining out from a crack in the casing. She thought about it.

"Ssh," she said soothingly, putting her hand out. "It's alright, there's no need to be afraid," she purred.

"Yes there is, that bloody thing bites!" he said viciously. The thing gave a small squeak and edged back against the wall behind it.

Martha turned her head and glared up at the Doctor.

"Be quiet!" she hissed. "I can get him out!"

"Him?" he cried indignantly, "Him? Just grab it and we'll yank the power cell out of its –"

"Ssh!" she commanded. He shut his mouth abruptly, his teeth snapping together audibly. He stood, surprised at her reaction and his tacit compliance. He pondered this as she bent to see under the cable again, stretching her hand out. "Come on then," she purred lightly, and the small thing edged toward her slowly.

It wandered painfully slowly toward her hand, then stopped and placed a single, fine leg on it, as if testing the surface. It rubbed her palm slowly, still shivering slightly.

_Please don't bite me, please don't bite me_, she prayed, mindful of the Doctor's gaze on her. But the small box, with six legs hanging out of the lid of the casing, simply jumped onto her hand and crouched.

She stared at it, and at the small green lights watching her, and waited.

"Well?" he asked from behind her, crouching down to see. She pulled her hand back slowly, bringing the small bug-like box with her. She knelt back on her heels, putting her other hand up to cup the small creature.

It was making a slight humming sound, and she smiled to herself.

"It's purring!" she hissed happily. She watched it turn slowly in her hands, and then it spotted the Doctor.

It screamed and jerked, trying to jump from her hands. She closed them slightly and turned her back to the Time Lord, blocking the view. The small creature was still bucking and screaming, and he grimaced in distaste, getting back to his feet and retreating quickly.

"Does it have to make such a noise?" he demanded disapprovingly.

She 'sh'ed it and then put a hand out, stroking a leg with a finger. It stopped screaming and settled suddenly.

"It doesn't seem to like you," she said quietly. "But it's ok with me."

"Maybe you smell like a doctor," he admitted grudgingly. "Can you see what it is?"

She put her free hand to the box and opened the lid slowly. She gasped.

"It's like a… a spider," she said, confused. "But it's… it's got six legs, and… and green balls on these stalks…" She pushed her hand in and under it, letting the box fall away.

"What colour is his tail?" he asked knowingly, from a good ten feet away.

"Doctor, spiders don't _have_ tails," she said.

"And they have more than six legs, too," he pointed out. "Well?"

She looked slowly. A short, stumpy tail was sticking out behind its round body, thrashing from side to side.

"Er… orange," she said, surprised.

"It's a 'she'," he said confidently, nodding to himself and walking off round the opposite side of the console.

"This is a girl?" she asked, getting up slowly and carrying it carefully toward the console.

"It's a Prendevarlan Desert Rat," he said loudly, reaching over the controls and moving a small ball slowly.

"Well what's it doing here?"

"I don't know," he said indignantly, rolling his eyes. "Perhaps she skipped on when we were -." He stopped short and looked at her quickly. "What colour did you say her eyes were?"

"Green," she shrugged.

"Oh, perfect," he said sarcastically, wiping his hands over his face and then dragging them through his hair. "That's _all_ we need," he grumped.

"What?" she asked slowly, watching it turn and look up at her, its tail still wagging frantically. She smiled, she couldn't help herself.

"Any time in the next few days we'll get a million little copies of that thing racing round this place, eating us out of TARDIS and home," he said shortly. "We have to get rid of it before it leaves eggs lying round the place."

"Eggs?" she asked, then looked up at him. "Well where do these things live?"

"Prendevarl Six," he said shortly, leaning over the console and grabbing handles and levers, cranking and yanking them quickly. She walked over but the small thing started squealing.

"Why does she scream when she sees you?"

"Cos she's a female!" he said, as if it were obvious. "That's why she likes you and bites me!"

Martha giggled suddenly. He just looked at her, his eyebrows raised and his jaw set to one side.

"Ok, sorry," she said, still grinning. "Do all Prender-thingians hate men?"

"_Males_," he corrected heavily, and she blinked. "Yes. It's a species thing," he sniffed, and Martha walked back to the chair, sitting down slowly so as not to jar the creature. It had closed its eyes and appeared to be much calmer.

"So we should take her home," she said quietly, and the Doctor looked up.

"Oh trust me, we're nearly there," he said loudly, and she looked at him.

"Couldn't we… Couldn't we keep one?" she dared, and he stared at her as if she had suddenly grown another head. "Just one?"

"Keep a Prendevarlan Desert Rat?" he demanded, his eyes boggling slightly. "Are you mad?"

"Well what's so wrong with them?" she asked, looking back down at her charge. "This one's gone to sleep. She seems –"

"She gone to sleep cos there's nothing to eat or mate with!" he said angrily, and Martha looked up at him. "They're the most useless little wasters in possibly the entire universe!"

"Why?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"Why? _Why_?" he demanded, his voice jammed in the higher notes. "That's _all_ they do – eat and sleep and mate! They don't build things, make things, go anywhere, do anything, or make a difference to any other thing in the universe!" he cried, outraged.

"You're just upset because you can't do it too," she said peevishly, then looked back down at the creature.

"You seriously think I'd waste my time stopping in one place with one mate all my lives– _life_?" he corrected quickly.

She looked up and they stared at each other for a long moment.

"Forget it," she said suddenly, "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant –"

"Martha Jones, just…" He sighed, hard, then shook his head. "Look, you're right. I'm just upset cos I couldn't… get away with what _she_ gets away with," he said quietly, looking away quickly. She frowned to herself, and it was quiet for a few minutes. She looked over at him, watching him read small screens and refine tiny instruments. She bit her lip.

"You'd get bored, anyway," she offered gamely.

"What?" he asked politely, looking up. She recognised the politely aloof expression he was careful to keep on his face, and she took a deep breath.

"You'd get bored. With just one person, I mean. All your life. In one place." She held his gaze bravely. "Anyway, you're lucky, you've got this big ship and all the adventure in the world," she added cheerfully.

"Worlds," he said quietly.

"In all the worlds," she said with a smile. He watched her for a long moment, then let himself smile slightly, winking at her briefly before looking back down at the console.

"Nearly there," he said to himself thoughtfully. "Nearly there."


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

He opened the doors of the TARDIS and stepped out first, holding it open for Martha and her small passenger.

"Right, all we have to do is find a good spot of grass and chuck her vaguely in the right direction," he grumped, watching Martha walk past him, the small creature in her hands. It squealed piteously as it passed him.

"Don't be so heartless!" she blurted, hurrying past him. "We could afford five minutes just finding a nice patch," she added, more accommodating.

"How you can be heartless when you've got two of them, I don't know," he said peevishly, and she huffed and stopped, looking around them.

Everything was slightly overcast, but in orange. The sky was a dull tan colour, the grass and field around them similarly bland. She thought about it.

"This is Prendevarl Six?" she asked, unimpressed. He locked the door and walked up behind her, letting his hands fall into his pockets.

"Yes. What's wrong with it?" he asked indignantly.

"Well, it's just a bit… sepia," she said.

"Yeah, but breathe that," he said, smiling as he took a deep breath. Martha did too.

"Blimey! That's like… really fresh sea air!" she gasped, turning to look up at him.

"I know. Great, isn't it?" he winked, then turned and walked off slowly. "Come on!" he called.

She followed him and they crossed the field steadily, stopping at a huge cliff-face. It fell away abruptly to the sea, all pointy rocks and dangerous sands hundreds of feet below them.

"Wow," she breathed, shaking her head. He simply stared down, watching the ocean pound at the beach relentlessly. She looked at him slowly. "How many times have you been here?"

"Just twice," he admitted quietly.

"Ah. With… someone else?" she asked quietly. He didn't look at her, his stern gaze searching the view for something.

"No. Just me." He was silent a moment, and she turned to look down too. "There's something to be said for spending time on your own."

"You're not wrong," she smiled frankly. "Sometimes I wish I were a million miles from my family and their spats." She looked at him, but he didn't appear to have heard. "Doctor?" she asked quietly. He didn't move. "Is that why you came here? To get away from your family?"

He stirred suddenly, sucking in a long breath and straightening. He looked at her cheerlessly, and she was struck by the way his eyes tried not to sag at the corners.

"They're all gone. You know that," he said shortly. She bit her lip.

"Doesn't mean you don't need to feel without them sometimes," she offered. "Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not around."

He stared at her with that pouty yet stern look she'd come to recognise, and she began to feel uncomfortable. Suddenly he smiled, shaking his head, and then turned to look back over the cliff. She let out a long breath.

"So then, this desert rat thing?" she asked. He looked at her quickly.

"Yep," he said abruptly, turning to stand and look at her square-on. "Just leave her here, she'll be fine."

"Here?" she demanded, as he moved to walk off. "This isn't a desert!"

"And peanuts aren't nuts," he said simply. "Just leave her."

"Alright," she grumped, and he smiled slightly. She looked down at her feet before bending and setting the small creature down gently. It appeared to be sleeping still, and she crouched, stroking a leg slowly. "Take care," she said quietly, standing slowly.

"You really like this place?" he asked quietly. She looked at him.

"Yeah. It's all alien and new," she smiled. He thought about it.

"Want to see some more of it? I mean, we've come all this way, we might as well have a wander," he said easily. She nodded.

"Yeah, alright then," she said. "What are the locals like?"

"Nice," he said succinctly. "They eat desert rats. Do this really good white wine sauce," he said innocently, tugging at his ear as he looked up at the clouds. She gasped, then tutted.

"I _almost_ believed you," she accused, and he grinned affably.

"Come on then," he said, turning to go. She looked back down at the desert rat.

"She's gone," she said, a little disappointed. "Didn't even… Oh, listen to me," she tutted irritably, "I almost moaned cos she didn't say goodbye." She pouted, for some reason upset that the small creature had taken her leave so stealthily.

"She'll be alright," he said gently, then wandered up to her, sticking his elbow out at right angles. She looked at him for a long moment, then slipped her left arm through and turned him round.

* * *

They walked along the cliff-edge and their silence was a comfortable one. Time stretched on, and they ambled along together, lost in their own thoughts.

"Doctor," she said suddenly.

"Hmm?" he asked, pre-occupied.

"You once said Gallifrey had orange skies. Is that why you come here?"

"You call this orange?" he scoffed indignantly, looking up. "Nothing like it! It's – it's dirty brown, this."

She giggled, and he looked down at her.

"Sorry," she said quickly, covering her mouth with her free, right hand. "It's just that… well, everyone likes to give the impression that their home is better than everyone else's."

"Well mine _was_," he said grumpily. "Thousands upon thousands of years of society, culture, proper thinking, morals and compassion, wiped out by a bunch of sadistic, evil little self-imprisoned buggers," he added vindictively. "Sometimes I think there's just no justice in the universe."

"Of course there isn't," she sniffed, and he looked at her. "If there were, you wouldn't be travelling round putting right what's about to go wrong."

"Don't say that," he moaned, and she looked up at him. "You make me sound like Sam Beckett."

She giggled and he stopped suddenly, looking round, sniffing.

"What?" she asked warily.

"Can you smell that?" he asked curiously, turning toward the sea. She inhaled deeply, thinking. She thought about it.

"No. What can you smell?" she asked curiously.

"There's the sea, of course, and then the ginger," he added. "You can't smell that?"

"Perhaps I just don't have the nose of a Gallifreyan," she smiled easily.

"Perhaps you're right. It's ginger, and that means it's going to get dark soon. Come on. This place loses its attraction at night," he said, turning them round. They walked back and she realised the sky was turning chocolate.

"This is fantastic," she breathed, and he looked down at her, grinning. "I'm walking on an alien world, arm-in-arm with an alien, going back to his spaceship. I never thought I'd do this."

"What, walk on an alien world?" he smiled, pleased.

"Walk arm-in-arm as the sun – _suns_ – set, with a tall, handsome human male-looking alien," she teased. "I'm glad my mum can't see this, she'd think-. Well, she'd think we were together," she added, looking out to sea and making sure he couldn't see her face.

"Well we are, aren't we?" he asked innocently. She looked up at him.

"No, I mean that thing humans say when they want to imply that strapping six-footer on your arm is your boyfriend," she managed.

"Oh," he said, nodding to himself. "Well, you humans always were a funny bunch."

She thought about it, then cleared her throat quietly. She plucked up her courage quickly. "So… You've never strolled down here with your girlfriend, then?"

"Girlfriend?" he asked, surprised. "What would I want with a girlfriend?"

"Well, apart from the obvious," she said, and then caught the look of innocent query on his face. "Or not," she said to herself. "Doesn't matter, forget it."

He smiled and they walked on, the skies dimming ever more thickly brown. They reached the TARDIS and she politely slipped her hand out of his arm, watching him pull out his key and unlock the door. He opened it for her and she walked in, a million thoughts going round her head, not least of all about him.

He walked in and peeled off his coat, whistling to himself as he strode up to the centre console and leaned over the controls. She sat on one of the high chairs, getting comfortable.

"Right then. Where to?" he asked, looking up.

"Well… we _were_ on our way somewhere with no humans and no rain," she reminded him.

"Absolutely," he said cheerfully, turning some dials. There was a rude beep from the console and he paused, looking at it. She recognised the sound of computer obstinacy and sat a little straighter. He muttered something and twisted a few strange small dials. There was another imperious beep, and he stood back one, his mouth open in shock. "I don't believe it!" he cried, then leaned back closer and pushed more buttons.

She got up off the chair and wandered round.

"Don't tell me we're out of petrol," she teased.

"No, we're _anchored_," he cried, confused. "How can we be anchored? To what? _By_ what?" he demanded. He turned and veered gracefully round her, striding down to the ramp with a definite amount of anger in his step. He disappeared out of the TARDIS door and she hurried down, leaning on the doorjamb and sticking her head out.

"Well?" she called, smelling the gingery sea smell and finding something unnerving about it.

"Of all the-! Now that's just_ rude_!" he shouted suddenly, and she bit her lip, hearing the unbridled anger. She stepped out of the door and walked round, finding him crouched down by the opposite corner of the police box, staring at a small yellow strand of some kind of wire.

It appeared to be attached to one side of the blue panelling, the other sinking into the grass beneath his feet.

"That little thing?" she said, confused. "That little piece of nightclub glow-band is stopping us from leaving?"

He snarled something and she stepped back, surprised by his ferocity as he put his hands to the wire and yanked it from the ground angrily.

"There are –" he began, yanking hard. The grass began to give round the wire where it was plunged into the earth, "some things that are – just not – done!" he growled. "And one of them – is – anchoring – a Type 40 – to – a power – _collector_!" he shouted, as the grass gave way.

He fell over onto his back and then sat up, looking at the metal box, suspended in-line on the yellow wire. It continued out the other side, thickening and turning orange as it disappeared into the soil.

"A power collector?" she asked, watching him pull out his screwdriver, running it round the seal on the box. "You mean someone's not only wheel-clamped us, they're nicking our fuel, too?"

"Exactly – if we were using fuel," he spat, disgusted. He muttered many unkind things as he failed to get the case open. "Dead-locked!" he spat, throwing the box to the grass in a fury. "What kind of degenerate, unfeeling excuse for a _crannak-pell-gassak-kreess-al-vak_ would do that to her?" he raged.

Martha just folded her arms, her eyebrows raised, wondering how bad an insult that had just been – and in what language.

"So we need to find who did this, and on what authority, and get it taken off, yeah?" she asked. He let his head fall forwards and ran his hands through his hair, letting his hands rest on the back of his neck as he studied the grass. "Doctor?"

He looked up suddenly, jumping to his feet and running back toward the doors.

"Martha Jones, get your coat!"


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

They had walked, rather quickly for her, toward a road and simply followed it until they reached the nearest town. The sky was now completely chocolate, the black clouds floating above, the place lit admirably by several streetlamps.

"Right," he said firmly, walking off and stopping by a flat screen stood on a thin pole, standing straight up from the pavement. He leaned nearer and then pulled out his glasses, pushing them on tersely and reading the screen. He began pressing the screen impatiently as she caught him up and stood by his side, watching.

"Is this some kind of town map?" she asked, watching.

"And directory," he snapped, his long, elegant fingers flying over the surface. She waited.

"She'll be alright, Doctor. It's not like she's going anywhere," she added to herself.

"How happy would you be if someone rammed a needle into _your_ arm and started siphoning off vital fluids?" he demanded. She grimaced.

"I see your point. How long before there's permanent damage?" she asked, worried.

"A day, maybe longer," he said, then stopped. "Oh-_ho_, got a town hall, have we?" he snapped accusingly. She leaned over and looked.

"How far is it?" she asked quickly.

"Walking distance."

"But it's the middle of the night now," she pointed out as he ripped off his glasses, folding them quickly and pushing them back into their inside pocket.

"Then they'd better be light sleepers," he said, turning to go. She followed and they hurried out down the street.

* * *

After three blocks he stopped, looking left and right. He paused, thinking.

"You've forgotten the map," she dared.

"I've got a lot on my mind," he snapped, annoyed. She took a deep breath, nodded, and looked around.

"Left," she said confidently, and he looked at her.

"Left?" he asked.

"Look, there are taller streetlamps that way, and more of them. That must mean a main road, or maybe even a collection of important buildings, like some kind of town square. Where else would you put a town hall?" she asked reasonably.

He looked at her and his mouth worked for a long moment, without sound. He closed it again and nodded, putting his hand to her upper arm and walking them to the left quickly.

They rounded a corner and stopped dead, finding a large open square of tall, stone buildings. The streetlamps lit everything with an eerie, slightly green glow. She swallowed.

"There," he said smartly, crossing the silent road and marching up to a set of heavy-looking wooden doors. She followed quickly, taking stock of the place.

"Well it certainly _looks_ like a town hall," she said. She stood back one, looking up. "All the office lights are out," she said. She heard a familiar noise and looked over to find him pointing his screwdriver at the large keyholes on the doors. "Doctor!" she hissed, hurrying over. "We can't just break into a public services building! We're supposed to be coming here to pay the fine and get her released, not –"

"We can't wait until they open again in the morning," he said irritably. "The nights here last for sixteen hours!"

"Oh, er… well, hurry up then," she hissed, putting a hand on his back to steady herself as she turned and looked out at the street. "We're alright so far, there doesn't seem to be anyone about. Be quick."

"Done," he breathed, then snapped off the screwdriver. He grabbed the large door handle and turned it slightly, opening it stealthily.

The door moved open and she looked round, following him in cautiously. He waited for her to get inside, then closed it again quietly. She looked around the large lobby area, then spotted a wide, horseshoe-shaped desk. Her heels made a slight _clack-clack_ noise on the highly polished floor as she started towards it.

Suddenly she felt her feet slipping and she found herself on her back, the breath pushed out of her.

"Careful," he hissed, then hurried toward her to help her up. There was a painfully long squeak and she heard a thump. She twisted round and found him in a heap on the floor, scrabbling to get to his feet. She bit her lip, trying not to smile. "They _cleaned_," he moaned, rubbing his knee as he got up slowly.

He walked closer to her carefully, putting his hands out and helping her up. She straightened and made sure her feet were firmly planted before letting go of him.

"Thanks," she whispered hoarsely. She looked past him to the desk. "They must have records, or a computer of some kind. The answers will be in there."

"Nice work," he winked, following her over to the desk carefully. She slipped but grabbed the edge, steadying herself. "You really should-"

She heard another wet-rubbery squeak and a thud, and turned to look at him. She couldn't help it; she laughed. He was lying on his back, his face screwed up in pain or shock, she couldn't tell. She giggled as she grabbed the desk in one hand and bent down to help him with the other.

He took her hand and pulled himself up, but suddenly his feet were scrabbling for purchase. She watched in amazement as he re-enacted any one of a dozen _Scooby-Doo_ routines running on the spot. Then he crashed back down to the floor.

"Doctor!" she hissed, slapping her free hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from making too much noise.

"Just open the – the records," he moaned, opening his eyes and turning slowly to his hands and knees. She controlled her laughter and used the desk to keep her balance, finding a large, open chair and plonking herself in it firmly.

His hand appeared over the edge of the desk and she giggled again, trying to concentrate on finding something that looked vaguely like a computer. He pulled himself up and leaned heavily on the edge of the desk, hissing and moaning something unkind about trainers and polished Prendevarlan floors.

"Well?" he asked.

"There's no kind of interface or – oh, hang on," she said quickly, turning in the seat as a large display caught her eye. He pulled himself round the edge of the desk as she leaned over and then looked about for a keyboard. "Oh, touch screen," she tutted quickly, remembering the street map. She looked over the screen as it came to life, showing some kind of picture. She realised it was in fact a directory, fashioned in a tree-root pattern that grew out from the central hub of a brand or company name. She grinned and put her hand out, touching 'public services'.

"Ooh, you're quick," he said appreciatively, appearing and looking over her shoulder.

"I like to play on the internet," she said with a smile. "Although I'm more of a WAP phone person."

"Try there," he said, pointing at a file name. She touched lightly at the screen and a red box popped up.

"Not allowed," she said, tutting.

He pulled out the screwdriver and leaned over, passing it over the display slowly. She watched the blue light glow and took a moment to appreciate the sound it made.

He snapped it off and pocketed it. "Try it now," he breathed.

She touched at it and the box opened again, blue this time. She read the options.

"Public disturbances," he said, bending closer next to her ear. She swallowed and did as told.

After ten minutes of pressing buttons and trying everything, there was still no record of anything.

"You know," he said suddenly, looking thoughtful, and she looked at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Why would a local authority use illegal power-leechers anyway?" he said darkly. She looked at him, watching his eyebrows heave downwards in consternation.

"Because… they have an energy shortage in the capital and they're spending all their time finding new resources?" she hazarded.

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"It was on that last page. It said something about the energy deficit for -." She gasped suddenly. "Oh my god! They're nicking power from _every_ tourist," she realised. "And no-one can find anything on it because _they're_ the ones doing it! The government!" she hissed.

He looked at her for a long moment.

"Then we have to stop them and get the TARDIS free," he said firmly. She nodded, looking back at the screen. She pressed some more pictures and he watched, confused. "What are you doing now?"

"Looking for this map," she said, pointing at the box that popped up. "We have to find the main power room and pull the plug. Then the TARDIS, and all other tourist ships – more than a hundred, if you believe the advertising bumf on their visa page – will be free again."

He stared at her, then suddenly grinned.

"Oh, Martha Jones," he said in awe, grabbing her face and hauling her toward him, "you are a _genius_!" He kissed her forehead firmly and let her go, staring back down at the screen. "So where's this power room then?" he asked excitedly.

She stared straight ahead, getting her breath back.

"Martha?" he prompted, looking at her. "Martha Jones?"

"Yeah," she squeaked, shaking herself and cursing her weak voice. She cleared her throat quickly. "I think… here," she said confidently, as another box popped up. He read it quickly, then dashed past the back of her chair. "Doctor, the floor-"

She heard a squeal and thump, followed by a soft moaning.

"Yeah," he wheezed painfully, and she got up from the chair quickly, grasping the desk firmly to look over the top. She found him climbing laboriously to his hands and knees on the slick floor. "Thanks for that," he managed.

"Well don't just – er, _kneel_ there," she chuckled. "Power room is four floors down, section 6H," she added.

"6H," he breathed, nodding. He got to his feet slowly, and she clutched as his elbow before he could slide again. "I'm getting too old for this," he breathed, shaking his head.

She laughed and they tread their way extremely slowly toward the lifts.


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

They stepped out of the lift and paused. It was completely black.

"Who goes home and turns off every single light?" she whispered, unhappy.

"No-one," he breathed from somewhere above her, and to her left. "They'd never find the light switch again."

"Too right," someone said loudly, and they froze.

The sound of many guns whining as power charged through them sounded, and Martha put her hand out to her left quickly, feeling the thick weave of his long brown coat and clutching at it. She was surprised to feel his cool fingers on her wrist, and then they pried hers off, instead taking her hand firmly.

"Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

Lights snapped on and they found themselves blinking into the bright lights of a large room full of filing cabinets and bookshelves.

"Not the power room, then," she hissed at him from the corner of her mouth. She felt his grip squeeze on her hand briefly and held her breath.

A tall, round thing edged up toward them. She didn't take in too many other details; the first thing she saw was the large black gun-like object pointing at her.

"I am in charge here," said a voice, and they looked round the black-uniformed being to another one. "And what were you doing in the lobby? We watched you manipulating and searching the official records," he accused.

The alien was standing, or rather puddling, just behind and to the right of the armed guard. He was a good head taller than even the Doctor, round and deep blue, his jelly-like skin undulating with small ripples of energy or something similar. Martha gaped. He crossed two expansive arms over his red uniform and peered at them with a single, large green eye.

"You watched us?" Martha asked, and the red-uniformed pillar of jelly turned a look on her. She was sure it was either scathing or dismissive.

"This is the town hall," he pointed out slowly, "but I wouldn't expect a female to grasp the advanced technology we use." He ignored Martha's scowl as he pointed up to the corner of the ceiling.

"CCTV," the Doctor breathed to himself, and Martha stalled a huff.

"Tell me why you were looking through the records, before I have you shot," the red-uniformed alien said simply.

The Doctor cleared his throat then reached into his right inside pocket. The guard raised the gun at them, but the Doctor ignored Martha's sudden tight grip on his and instead stiffened, drawing himself up taller admirably.

"How dare you!" he cried indignantly, pulling the small, rectangular black fold-over wallet from his pocket and snapping it open. He brandished it at the guard angrily. "I hope you have another job, my son, or you're going to have a lot of back-peddling to do!"

The guard lowered the gun slowly and the red-uniformed alien sidled past him quickly, bearing down on the pair of Off-Worlders.

"Sir?" the guard asked, his voice a low, clunky approximation of pretending to be awake.

"Wait," he snapped, snatching the psychic paper from the Doctor and inspecting it. He looked up at them. "The Lord Professor Sir Sav'natheen Kerup'ti Nathal?" he demanded.

"That's me," the Doctor said angrily.

"Prendeval's Minister of Engineering?" he prompted sceptically.

"Doctor," Martha hissed warningly.

"In the flesh, young man," he said tersely. "And who are you, keeping me from my job?"

"Colonel Figgo'nalan," he said slowly.

"Well then Colonel, is there a reason your trained amoeba is holding a charged weapon on your Minister of Engineering?" he demanded cockily. "Honestly! I come down here to check your sneaky-sneaky re-routing is all going to plan, and what do I find? No-one actually doing any work, that's what I find!" he barrelled on. He lifted his free, left hand and pointed at the Colonel. "I'm sorry to say I'm really quite disappointed in you!"

"Oh, er –" the Colonel began quickly, handing the wallet back to him.

"Yeah! Exactly!" the Doctor accused, nodding to him with this eyes wide in accusation. "Not much to ask, is it? Siphon it off and keep it secret, and yet, here you lot are, bouncing around like Cybermen on Upgrade-Leave! Now can I see the power room or not?" he demanded haughtily.

"Oh, well, of course, my lord," he said quickly. His gaze flicked at Martha. "And… who is this, my lord? You know we have to check before we –"

"Of all the impertinence!" the Doctor cried indignantly. "She's with _me_! She's my- er – assistant." He felt Martha's hand on his keenly and realised the soldiers were just staring, disbelieving. "_Girlfriend_," he corrected hastily. "My assistant-girlfriend," he added confidently. He looked down at Martha, who just stared back at him, gob-smacked. The Doctor winked slyly and she grinned suddenly, leaning on him suggestively.

"Do _I_ get to see the power room? _My lord_?" she stressed. He grinned daffily, then wiped it off and looked back at the Colonel.

"Some time tonight, perhaps? We're not getting any younger," he pointed out clearly.

The Colonel saluted, then shouted orders to the twenty or so jelly-like aliens, standing and watching and clearly not comprehending.

They holstered their weapons and stood to attention, before sliding to the walls and waiting in perfect silence and stillness. Martha grinned, tapping her index finger across the back of the Doctor's hand. He almost laughed, then sniffed professionally and nodded.

"And about time, too. Do you know what a chore it is to have to do a routine inspection in the middle of the night?" he went on, and the Colonel nodded.

"Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord," he said hurriedly, then waved his thick arm out to show the way. "Please follow me, my lord."

"I certainly shall," he said, pulling Martha along by his side.

They were led down a long, narrow corridor, Martha gripping his hand in excitement. He appeared to ignore her, marching along with all the character-acting of a top-name BBC headliner.

They reached a door and the Colonel paused.

"My lord?" he prompted.

"Well come on then, open it for me," he said imperiously. "You don't expect _me_ to do it, do you?"

The Colonel stepped forward and pressed an odd-shaped key to the door. It slid open with a hiss and they walked inside, stopping to look up and around.

Towers and towers of tall, Lego-shaped blocks were arranged in neat rows, small green and red lights blinking away merrily. The Doctor nodded.

"Marvellous! Right, thank you, you may go," he said, looking at the Colonel.

"Oh. I thought –"

"Well there you go, going about your hobby on the company time again," he said pointedly. The Colonel saluted and slid backwards, and the door slid shut soundly.

Martha sagged and let go of his hand, releasing the tension in a long, loud huff. The Doctor didn't appear to notice. He simply leapt over to the first tower, pulling on his glasses and looking at it.

Martha kicked herself and flew up to the next row of towers, looking them over and wondering just what she was looking for.

"How do we find which one is clamping the TARDIS?" she demanded quickly, looking over the bank of lights carefully.

"With that," the Doctor said, spying a terminal at the far side of the room and racing over. He grabbed it and pressed the screen quickly, following instructions and maps.

"That paper is great!" she said suddenly, backing away from the tower to turn and hurry over to him. "I though we were done for!"

"Us?" he demanded indignantly, "Done for? Martha Jones, you offend me," he chuckled, then stopped short and slapped the screen delightedly. "There she is! Right," he said quickly, pulling the screwdriver from his pocket. She put her hand out over the screen quickly.

"No!" she cried. He looked at her. "If we stop all these right now, they'll know we're not some pompous lord fancy-pants minister and his mistress," she explained quickly.

"So we set this to go offline in say, twenty minutes, while we make our way back out to the TARDIS," he said simply. She gaped, thought quickly, then nodded hastily. "Martha Jones, I like the way you think!" he grinned, and she removed her hand.

The Colonel watched the door open and stood to attention, as the Doctor and Martha appeared again.

"Everything in order, my lord?" he asked quickly.

"It would be contravening several government guidelines and directives to tell you," he said plainly, then smiled slightly. "But I can confirm we've done what we set out to do."

"That's good, my lord," he said, relieved. "Did you find everything you needed? You seemed to be in there a while, my lord," he said. His gaze rested on Martha. "Oh. Just, er… making use of your assistant?" he hazarded.

Martha opened her mouth angrily but the Doctor sniffed, putting his hands in his pockets and stepping in front of her, walking up to the Colonel and eyeing him from mere inches away.

"Oh, my assistant has so many talents," he breathed darkly, "you'd be wise not to judge."

"Of course not, my lord," he said hurriedly, then slewed his jelly-like body sideways and looked at Martha. "My apologies, my lady."

"Accepted," she said stiffly. "Now then, we have better things to do."

"I don't doubt," the Colonel let slip, and the Doctor fixed him with a look that could have been broken up and served in drinks. "I meant cabinet matters, my lord," he said quickly. The Doctor sniffed and turned away, walking off down the corridor.

"Well then, come on you lot. Lady Jones? If you'd be so kind?" he called, walking off. She grinned and followed him quickly.

--------------

They came up on the TARDIS and he hurried inside. Martha raced round the back of the outside, grabbing the yellow line and finding it came free in her hands easily.

"Yes!" she shouted, hurling the end away and running round to the doors. She pushed in just as he bent over the console and yanked on a long lever.

The grating shuddered under her feet and the familiar sound of the Time Rotor started up.

"And we're off!" he crowed excitedly. She laughed, running up the ramp and to the console, grabbing it as she felt the ship lurch and leave solid ground.

"We did it! We actually convinced those Prendevarlans we were state heads!" she laughed, her fingers squeezing the console, jiggling up down. "Did you see that Colonel's face? I thought he was going to have apoplexy when you told him to open the door for us! I can't believe we got away with it!"

"Well of course we did," he said suavely, grinning gamely, his eyebrows scrambling up toward his floppy fringe. "How could we not? You, the genius, and me, the man with all the right tools?"

She laughed, squeaking slightly, and he watched her, grinning. Then he turned back to the console and nodded to himself happily.

"So the entire power-leeching thing is offline?" she asked.

"Oh yes!" he crowed with conviction. "In fact, they're going to have a hard time operating _that_ particular tourist-trap anytime in the near future."

"Why's that?" she asked, calming herself as she realised he might have done slightly more than cause a temporary fault to take it offline.

"_Well_," he stressed, scratching the back of his head suddenly, "they might find a piece of yellow nightclub glow-band stuffed up the exhaust release vent," he added, managing to look just slightly apologetic. She gasped, then giggled.

"Are you this mean to everyone who picks on your TARDIS?" she teased. He straightened, looking at her with his hands comfortably in his pockets, grinning as he swayed from left to right slightly.

"As my mate Jarvis likes to say: '_They think they've got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet_'," he winked maliciously.

**THE END**


End file.
